Author: David Tyra

Whether you realize it or not, we have just passed a very significant milestone in the life of our church.

I’m sixty years old. God willing, I shall soon turn sixty-one. I have been Pastor of First Baptist Church of Linton for over nineteen years now.

And I can’t count how many times over the years I have told people, “Our church organist has been playing the organ for longer than I’ve been alive. She’s been on that organ bench since the year before I was born.”

Doris Thornton and I are separated by a couple of generations, musical tastes, choice of instruments, and levels of expertise (she has far more knowledge of music and music theory than I will ever have). But I have always been amazed at how long and how excellently she has played the organ for our church.

Her son Mike Thornton recently told me that he remembers going with his mother to the old First Baptist Church building, so she could practice the hymns for Sunday’s services. He said while she played, he explored every nook and cranny of that old building. (I don’t think I can get him in trouble for that now.) And the reason he got to know that old building so well was because Doris was so dedicated to preparing for the Sunday services.

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There’s an old Jewish proverb that says, “If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans.” I was thinking about that proverb because, as I write this, it’s the day before Thanksgiving, and I am sitting in my study listening to the pouring rain outside, waiting on my phone to ring.

We’d made plans to go up to my Dad’s tomorrow for Thanksgiving, and share a meal with the extended Tyra clan. However, our daughter is currently in the local hospital, about to give birth to our next grandson. So my wife has called the appropriate family members and apprised them of the situation. Everything is “on hold” for us until the baby is born.

We had all assumed that the new baby would be born before now, and my wife and I could go on to my Dad’s while our daughter and her family spent Thanksgiving at home with the new baby. But apparently nobody told the baby what the plan was, because for the time being he’s still firmly ensconced in his safe, warm place. The Thanksgiving holiday is turning out differently than we had imagined it. And I think I might have heard a chuckle  from heaven.

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Just this morning I was sitting at breakfast with my wife, watching and listening to the news as we always do. When the commercial break came, we were subjected to one political ad after another. I looked at my wife and said, “I will be so glad for the election to be over so we won’t have to put up with these political commercials anymore!”  Or at least for a while.

I understand the importance of free speech as it applies to political discourse. I understand that “mud-slinging” in political campaigns goes all the way back to the earliest years of our nation. I also understand the value of keeping those in office accountable and making the public aware of what they’ve done and said.

But I don’t understand how someone can be a reasonably respectable member of a community and in the public eye, more or less, for years, and then just before an election, suddenly we are told that they are despicable human beings who have done and said despicable things. Until the primary is over; then the accusers link arms with the candidate and tell you why you should vote for the one they had been slandering only a few short weeks before. I don’t know which offends me more: that political campaigns assume we’re stupid enough to fall for such transparent tactics, or that vast numbers of the American public do seem to fall for such transparent tactics. Read More

When our son Josh was just a tyke, one day he announced to us with great conviction: “Oh, I can’t stand change!” My wife and I both laughed and told him he was going to have to get over that.

Turns out, sometimes that’s easier said than done.

Over the last decade our family has gone through some significant changes. These changes began with the birth of our first grandchild just over eight years ago. (Grandkids are more fun; I recommend having them first.) Our grandson’s birth was followed less than three months later by my mother’s death. Then Rae Anne’s mother died two years ago.  And much more recently, my father-in-law got remarried. There are some other things, but these are the most powerfully personal ones.Read More

(This month we have a guest columnist: my youngest brother, Curt Tyra. Curt is an engineer for Allison Transmission in Indianapolis, serves as an elder in Gray Road Baptist Church, and is one of the finest men I’ve ever known in my life. When I grow up, I want to be like him. Curt wrote this article for Gray Road’s newsletter, and I thought it was worth sharing with you. And yes, I got his permission. I told him I might even give him credit. So here’s the article. I hope you find it as thought-provoking as I did. – Pastor David)

The old hymn that my grandparents sang said, “When the saved of earth shall gather over on the other shore, and the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.”  The roll call imagined in this song would be from a perfect listing of the true followers of Christ.

Contrast this roll with the membership roll of any local church, and you will find yourself confronted with some harsh realities.  While the membership of a given church may be made up of many true believers, the reality of our experience and the testimony of Scripture is that unbelievers can slip into our fellowship unnoticed.Read More

Someone recently said to me: “You used to show pictures and put the Scriptures up on the screen as you preached. Would you please do that again?” I felt very conflicted when I was asked this, and I’d like to explain to you why.

I always have tried to do something a little special, a little out of the ordinary, when it comes to Christmas and Easter services. In part it’s because preachers are faced with telling “the old, old story” without telling it the same old way every year. When those wonderful seasons start approaching, preachers start asking each other: “What are you doing for Christmas?”, or “What are you doing for Easter?” We’re always looking for fresh, new ideas to help proclaim the message of the Incarnation, the Cross and the Resurrection.Read More

I started playing the guitar when I was ten years old. My parents bought me my first guitar for Christmas that year. It came from Woolco, and cost the princely sum of $39.95! I thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world…for a while. After about a year I began to realize just how hard to play my Woolco guitar really was. In those days inexpensive guitars were mainly “instruments of torture”.

I’d look at other guitars when I went shopping with my parents. They used to sell guitars and amplifiers at Sears and other department stores. These instruments also weren’t very expensive—or very good—but they sure were fun to look at. Back then, I thought that the more buttons and knobs a guitar had, the better it was.Read More

One of the things that amazed me after my shoulder surgery was how fast I lost muscle in my right arm. I would look in the mirror and think, “Good grief! I can’t believe how skinny that arm is compared to the other one!” As much as I enjoyed the medically-induced rest after my surgery, it came with a price. Inaction leads to loss of strength. In my case, it was prescribed and intentional, but the consequences were still the same. It really is true: move it or lose it. I didn’t move my shoulder and my arm for a while, and as a consequence I became significantly weaker.

I’ve been going through physical therapy, first to get back the range of motion, then to regain the strength that my arm had before. And it’s been a long and sometimes arduous process.

At first it didn’t hurt at all. The physical therapist would gently move my arm through a limited range of motion. All I had to do was lay there; the therapist did all the work.Read More